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Tattoos, Ireland, Wales, and the Ivory Coast
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The Denver Highlanders Newsletter reported the upcoming 5 nations like this,
"Well, that time of year is upon us again. Time to get up at 7:30 a.m., put on a baseball cap, and head down to Jackson's Hole to start drinking. Time to yet again order the "Rugger Special." Time to scream "Cam on, Gregor!" in your best Scottish accent. Time to spend a fine Saturday afternoon passed out drunk, or, for the true degenerates amongst us, down on Colfax getting tattoos with the Thomas brothers. Yes, that?s right, the 1998 Five Nations Championship is ready to get underway, and it is left to the likes of us to predict the outcome. This we shall do, although the reader should keep in mind we have correctly guessed the winners in about 3 of the last 10 major rugby internationals."
Well as interesting as the write is, something in it seems sorta of odd? What is this about the Thomas Brother's and Colfax Ave?
On a warm February day in 1997, members of the Denver Highlanders finished the last of the remaining pitchers of Guinness. Ireland had held on to beat Wales in Cardiff, while England had spanked Scotland. Members of the team were severely disabled by alcohol and had thoughts of their cozy beds and pillows in their heads. The time was 11:30 AM.
With the 5 Nations rugby games being held live in England, 7 hours ahead of Denver's time zone, the ruggers from around Denver did as the article above said, awoke with hangover and made their way to the bar to watch a little international rugby.
When the games were over, 4 men remained. My sibling Jim, who had just started playing rugby at age 31 and was in his second year, myself, Matt, a small Englishmen who was more at the bar to socialize than anything else, and Mark, the team's fullback and Stanford Graduate Rocket Scientist. Not the smallest man on our team, but he could challenge for the title.
With the 4 of us remaining, my brother announced his plan to get a tattoo. Mark joined in on the plan and I followed suit. We were then off to Colfax Ave, a street with several bars and Tattoo parlors on it.
When we arrived at the tattoo shop, we were told we would have to wait. As the artist took our ideas and drawings, my brother and I both had our designs planned for some time, Mark gazed at the large wall of different patterns. He settled on a large bulldog standing upright with its arms crossed. Seemed fitting for such a quiet and gentle person.
My brother had brought a picture of the Tazmanian Devil wearing a kilt holding a rugby ball. I had drawn up a picture of the welsh flag and the Irish Flag with a rugby ball between. (My heritage is Irish and Welsh.)
Well after several beers and hours, we were all done, including the reluctant POM, who got the English Rugby Rose on his back. All the tatoos looked great and we were all very happy.
Until the next day when after further examination, I realized my Irish Flag was colored incorrectly. It seems that while I was intoxicated, I asked the artists to color the flags in the opposite order of the drawing I had made. Instead of the Irish Flag being Green, white, Orange (as seen in the picture to the right), it was orange, white, green.
This was not noticed by anyone for a very long time, until, while playing the Gentlemen of Aspen, a Irish Hooker asked me after the game, "why do you have the Ivory Coast's Flag on your leg?"
So there you have it, My leg shows both Wales and Cote D'Ivore Flags.
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